My hands are full of shells.
Beautiful, intricate, wonderful shells.
I've been wondering why on earth I can't seem to grasp hold of God these days, and I thank him for showing me what I've been doing wrong. Each time I set out to find Him, I always seem to end up right where I started, back at the beginning. I begin with zeal, only to find myself torn between the shells I hold, wonderful as they are, and the starfish perfectly in my reach. I say to myself that God is out of reach, that He is withholding himself from me for whatever reason; I say that ever since my changes over the summer, God has been distant and surreal. I suppose the reason I pin this problem on God is because I can't bear to face the fact that I really need to drop my shells. My hands are full, and I can't grasp the God I love.
I am so preoccupied with doing everything, with being everything, that I hinder myself from dropping everything and just being. Jesus led a focused life, one in which He didn't live according to the expectations of others, the obligations that humans undoubtedly will feel, and the interruptions that, although seemingly good, would have delayed the work He needed to do. Jesus didn't try to do everything for everyone during His time here on earth. He didn't heal every single person in need of healing, He didn't stop to make sure that every single non-believer believed; that would've been wonderful, but it wouldn't have fulfilled the purpose that God had set out for Him, that He had said yes to.
I wonder what I have said yes to in my own life that is stopping me from giving my complete yes to God. Although I'll need to do some praying as to what these things may be, I know already that they will cost me something to drop. Like seashells, the obligations and undertakings of my life may be great, but I've realized that often the worst enemy of the best is the good, not the bad. However, the starfish will be worth it. If I truly believe that my life has a purpose beyond my own works, wills, and thoughts, let me be able to take a step, drop my shells, and be reunited with the God who so wants to be with me.
Beautiful, intricate, wonderful shells.
I've been wondering why on earth I can't seem to grasp hold of God these days, and I thank him for showing me what I've been doing wrong. Each time I set out to find Him, I always seem to end up right where I started, back at the beginning. I begin with zeal, only to find myself torn between the shells I hold, wonderful as they are, and the starfish perfectly in my reach. I say to myself that God is out of reach, that He is withholding himself from me for whatever reason; I say that ever since my changes over the summer, God has been distant and surreal. I suppose the reason I pin this problem on God is because I can't bear to face the fact that I really need to drop my shells. My hands are full, and I can't grasp the God I love.
I am so preoccupied with doing everything, with being everything, that I hinder myself from dropping everything and just being. Jesus led a focused life, one in which He didn't live according to the expectations of others, the obligations that humans undoubtedly will feel, and the interruptions that, although seemingly good, would have delayed the work He needed to do. Jesus didn't try to do everything for everyone during His time here on earth. He didn't heal every single person in need of healing, He didn't stop to make sure that every single non-believer believed; that would've been wonderful, but it wouldn't have fulfilled the purpose that God had set out for Him, that He had said yes to.
I wonder what I have said yes to in my own life that is stopping me from giving my complete yes to God. Although I'll need to do some praying as to what these things may be, I know already that they will cost me something to drop. Like seashells, the obligations and undertakings of my life may be great, but I've realized that often the worst enemy of the best is the good, not the bad. However, the starfish will be worth it. If I truly believe that my life has a purpose beyond my own works, wills, and thoughts, let me be able to take a step, drop my shells, and be reunited with the God who so wants to be with me.
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